Little red pills and Jack...
That evening, Milo walked into the kitchen to find his mother sleeping on the kitchen table. Since his father's death, this was becoming a common sight. Sitting on the table beside her resting head was a half-full bottle of Jack Danial's. Her flaming hair fell gently across her face, masking it. A small pill bottle lay tipped over before her.
Milo picked up the bottle and refilled its spilt contents. He read the drug's name, recognizing it as a prescription sleeping assistant. From past experiences with his mother's periodic depressions with attempted suicides, he knew that this drug was a nasty one when mixed with alcohol.
He set the bottle back on the table again and picked up the booze. He stiffed it gingerly, noting the strung odor of aged whiskey. He resealed the cap and placed the bottle in the pantry.
He turned back to his mother, who had not stirred at all since his entrance into the room. He stepped forward and shook her shoulder gently. She lifted her head groggily, blinking her eyes hard in an attempt to clear the rainbow swirls in her vision.
"Milo? W-whater you doin' here? You're s'posed to be at schoolll." She tried futilely to stand but fell back into the chair.
"School was over hours ago Mother. What are you doing taking those pills again? I thought the doctor ended the prescription."
"Thas none a your business. You're jus like your father, always prying into other people's business." She stood this time and started upstairs. Milo stood frozen, unable to react to the slander just spoken to him. As her red mane vanished around the corner, a vengeful idea struck him. He glanced back down at the pill bottle sitting innocently on the table.
He glanced at the clock; 8:00 pm. He'd have to wait for at least an hour before he could put the plan into action. He walked out of the kitchen, into the living room, and pulled out his homework.
As he finished his final assignment, he glanced at the clock: 10:00 pm. He was a bit late, but he could make up for the lost time. He walked back into the kitchen and retrieved the pills and the whiskey. He turned and walked upstairs.
When he reached his mother's bedroom, he listened at the door. The sound of light snoring met his waiting ears and he let himself into the room. Sleeping above the blankets was his mother. He walked up to her and shook her awake.
She glared at him through drunken eyes before snarling, "Whadda ya want?"
In his most pleasant voice Milo replied, "It's time for your medication Mother. You need to sit up." She complied, much to his surprise. Milo opened the pill bottle and poured out four of the bright red pills. He glanced at the label again, although he already knew that the average dosage was one pill.
He dropped the pills into his mother's impatient hand and handed her the bottle of alcohol. His mother popped the pills into her mouth all at once and then drained the remainder of the bottle's contents. She shoved the empty bottle back into Milo's hands and shouted at him to leave her. Milo walked to the door and smiled innocently over his shoulder.
"Sweet dreams, Mother." He walked out of the room and shut the door behind himself. When 11:00 rolled around, Milo walked into his mother's room again. He walked over to the bed and felt for a pulse. The still vein in her neck pasted a grin on his usually melancholy face.